


Mechanics of the Act

by nomelon



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Demons, Discovery, Exploration, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Porn, Smut, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-19
Updated: 2010-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomelon/pseuds/nomelon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"And these," Illyria said, cupping her breasts through her body armour. "Their size is not correlated with the function of the gland. What purpose do they serve on a female who is not rearing young? I have witnessed no other mammal on this planet sporting such permanently swollen mammary glands."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Mechanics of the Act

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Illyria/Spike, discovery.

"And these," Illyria said, cupping her breasts through her body armour. "Their size is not correlated with the function of the gland. What purpose do they serve on a female who is not rearing young? I have witnessed no other mammal on this planet sporting such permanently swollen mammary glands."

Spike bit his lip hard enough to bruise, relishing the little flare of pain. He was in an agony of indecision, torn between playing the gentleman and simply walking away, and trying his damnedest not to flat-out leer at her. Neither reaction was likely to go down well.

"Although," she considered, looking down first at one breast, then at the other. "In truth, mine do not appear so very swollen. Perhaps the shell was at a slightly higher state of evolution."

Spike swallowed heavily. "Illyria, uh, perhaps I'm not the one you should be asking about this. I mean, I'm not exactly qualified to-- What are you doing?"

Illyria stared at him, unblinking, as her armour began to dissolve, revealing her pale, deceptively delicate shoulders. "I wish further examination of this form."

Spike glanced around the small living room of his apartment. "Perhaps you might want to take it somewhere a little more private? Maybe toddle off to the little girls' room?"

Illyria was already naked to the waist, standing straight-backed and erect. "Do not presume to instruct me."

"Wouldn't dream of it, your highness," Spike said, noticing that her nipples were a very pretty shade of blue. He went to her, shrugging out of his duster, and wrapped it around her shoulders. Illyria just looked up at him, apparently not taking umbrage with his actions for once, which was always good. Maybe he'd get out of this without any broken bones.

She was stiff under his hands, more immalleable than any vampire, yet so tiny that the coattails of his duster trailed the floor at their feet. She tilted her head, ever the proud little bluebird, probably finding him just as strange to her, no matter that they'd known each other the best part of a year.

Spike cleared his throat and attempted a friendly smile. "But, uh, this isn't, you know. That thing. Appropriate."

"A foolish word, relative in its meaning and worthless to both of us."

"That's as may be," he said with a brief squeeze to her shoulders, "but you can't just go around showing off your wares for all and sundry."

There was the barest tightening of Illyria's mouth to show her displeasure. "I am not," she said. "I am only showing them to you." Before he knew what was happening, she had grabbed his hand and pressed his palm to her breast under the leather cocoon of his coat. "Tell me," she said. "Tell me the purpose. Tell me what you feel."

With a supreme display of self-control, Spike didn't move. He clenched his teeth and breathed in, slow and controlled through his nose, then let it out through his mouth. "Illyria," he said carefully. "You're no fool. You know what it is men and women do together in the dark."

"You speak of copulation."

"Indeed I do."

"Animals rutting together in sweat and filth, led by instincts and desires of which they have no true perception."

"Well..." He blinked a couple of times, lost in a memory or two, and bobbed his head. "Yeah. On occasion."

"You show amusement at my perceived shortcomings?"

"No," he said, quite seriously. "Not at you. I promise." He darted his tongue over his lips and lowered his voice to ask, "You've-ah... you've never?"

"Never," she said, with no shame, with no bashfulness, only simple truth.

His hand was still on her bare skin, the curve of her breast warm and amazingly soft against his palm. Telling himself it was a simple act of curiosity, he brushed his thumb slowly back and forth, just grazing her nipple. He watched her closely, and was completely unprepared for the heat that unfurled low in his stomach when Illyria _shivered_ in response.

"There was no call for it before," she said, and Spike could swear that there was the tiniest hint of breathlessness to her voice. Manly pride made him draw back a little to better gauge her reaction, and to watch the play of light and shadow over her pale skin under the duster. "A god has other ways to find pleasure. Unimaginable ecstasies were mine for the plucking. But this form... There are things I wish to experience."

"As you wish," he said, his gaze drawn by her lips. "So long as you know what it is you're asking for."

"I know the mechanics of the act, but this is merely academ--"

Spike lowered his head and kissed her. He kept it gentle and as sweet as he could, with just the briefest touch of his tongue to her lip.

She didn't react like any women he'd kissed before. In his experience, there was always the outside chance he was going to get his face slapped, but generally, if the person he was with was into what they were doing, there were always the telltale signs: the way a woman smelled when she wanted him, the hot blood pumping just under her skin if she was human, the way she held herself, like she was curving herself around him before they'd even touched, ready and impatient for the messy, wonderful struggle of lovemaking, letting him know that she was hot for him.

It didn't matter if the lady in question loved him or hated him -- if she wanted him, there were some things that never changed.

Illyria hadn't moved. She was still stiff and expressionless, but she was breathing now. Not chest-heaving, bodice-straining, struggling to catch a little oxygen type of breaths, but _breathing_. Something Spike wasn't entirely sure he'd ever seen her do before. Soft little in-out breaths through parted lips, her mouth a soft moue, her lips shiny and a darker shade of blue than usual.

"That kind of what you had in mind?" he asked, surprised at the husk of his own voice.

Illyria nodded and actually licked her lips before answering. "It was not repugnant."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "High praise indeed." He pinched lightly at her nipple, sneaking his other hand under the duster to stroke over the soft skin of her ribs.

"I... I would have more," she said.

He realised with a surprised jolt of desire that this was Illyria as flustered as he'd ever seen her. She was still issuing orders like her every whim was worth dying for a hundred times over, yet she was shaken. This was all brand new to her. Perhaps this was Illyria out of her depth. He had a sneaking suspicion he may well have been the first creature in millions of years to witness such a thing. He smiled down at her, a little besotted with her and a lot full of himself.

"As much as you want," he said, walking slowly forward until her back hit the wall. Illyria's eyes widened at the impact and her fist was suddenly clenched on the front of his shirt, her body tensed and ready for a fight.

Spike kept loose. "Going to have to trust me here, Blue. Ease up a little. You're going to have to let me in. Like I said, as much as you want."

He moved in slowly, maintaining eye contact, not stopping until he was crowded up against her, letting her get used to the feel of him. When their lips met a second time, she tilted her face to him, not quite kissing back, but letting him have his way, licking over her own lips like she was seeking out the taste of him, her tongue fluttering against his mouth. He traced idle patterns over her skin, finding her hips naked and taking it as a good sign that she'd bared more of herself to him. He moved further south until he found hot flesh and slick skin, not pushing inside, just easing her into it, stroking her softly, teasing her over and over until her fist hit the wall hard enough to put a dent in the plaster and rattle the cheap print hanging over their heads.

Spike smiled against her lips and dropped slowly to his knees, holding her in place with his hands on her hips. He peered up at her, pressing soft kisses to the jut of her hipbone and low on her stomach, pretending not to notice the way she was shifting her thighs back and forth, looking for a little friction as she glared down at him.

"The sight of you on your knees is pleasing to me."

"And you look good wearing my clothes," he shot back, licking at the crease of her thigh with just the very tip of his tongue. "You should do it more often."

"I refuse," she said simply. "And do not presume--"

"To instruct you. Yeah, yeah, I got the memo. How about you return the favour and just let me make you feel good, hmm?"

"But what good are you to me there?" she said more sharply, and he wondered if perhaps teasing a sexually frustrated god-king was really the best of ideas.

He nosed closer to where she wanted him, to the thing she didn't know how to ask for, and saw that the blue tinge to her skin was darkest where the blood ran closest to the surface.

He ran his hand down the back of her thigh, and with the lightest of touches he moved her knee to one side. She made a wonderful noise of surprise at the first touch of his mouth, her hands clenching in his hair hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to get in the way of what he was doing. He licked at her softly, drinking her down, resisting any and all garbled orders from above to stop, to give her more, to give it to her harder.

He stood up, smiling like the cat that got the cream, and Illyria growled, grabbing his head and pulling him in for a kiss. She was a fast learner, starting out with presses of closed lips, but soon opening her mouth to him, using her tongue and her teeth to give as good as she got.

He touched her again, slipping two fingers easily inside her, and kept his thumb rubbing at her. Her hips moved restlessly against him, and his whole hand was quickly soaked. The thought of it, that she was this wet for him, this lost in what they doing, it made Spike groan and nudge his hips up against her, looking for a little pressure to take the edge off. He fisted his hand in her hair, tilting her head back to kiss her harder. The duster slipped off her shoulders as Illyria drew back, fury in her eyes.

"You _dare_ to manhandle me?"

"Yeah," he tossed back, his chin raised. "I absolutely do."

There was a moment devoid of movement, where Spike just had the time to wonder if perhaps he'd pushed her too far, when Illyria scowled and shoved his shirt up under his arms, ripping it in her haste, looking for skin, her mouth hot on his. Her attempts at undressing him were hasty and unfocused, but she managed to get his belt undone with a clink of metal and push his jeans to his knees.

Spike took the weight of her in her hands, the slightness of her a marvel to him. Illyria reached down between their bodies, impatient as ever, and got hold of his dick, rubbing the head all over her, mewling in frustration.

Spike kissed her jaw, trying to calm her. "Let me, love. Let me."

He shifted his hips so that the angle was right, that was all it took. He was sliding inside, lost in the feel of her.

There was a look of furious concentration on her face, her whole body strong and agile and greedy for him. Her muscles tensed and relaxed as she writhed against him, twisting her hips, trusting him to support her weight.

"Oh, god, you beautiful girl. That's right. That's it. Look at you. You're a natural."

She threw her head back and hooked a hand on the back of his neck, taking him deeper, her skin damp with sweat and sliding against his. Spike wanted more. He wanted to be pushing inside her, as deep as he could go. He flattened her back against the wall so he could control his thrusts, and touched their mouths together, just breathing her in, too far gone to try and make it a proper kiss.

"Is this what you wanted, luv? Tell me. Let me know how it feels."

"Yes," she said. "Yes. I like it like this. Do not stop what you are doing."

Spike rewarded her with his thumb right where she wanted it most, and it made her arch off the wall against him, meeting his thrusts, arching higher and higher until she shuddered and came with a surprised cry of pleasure. The tight clench of her body was too much and it dragged him over the edge with her. They clung together, Illyria's legs wrapped tightly around him and not letting go.

Spike mouthed at her throat, knowing better than to slip into gameface, although the urge was there, just under the surface.

"We shall do this often," she announced. "Daily. Hourly. I renew my offer to keep you as a pet."

Spike lifted his head and smiled at her. She looked glorious: sweaty skin and tangled hair, watching him closely, her eyes bright with interest. He was feeling bleary and fucked out and really bloody good. He was still deep inside her, still hard, and he thought maybe if she gave him a minute or so to regroup, he'd be ready to go again.

"Yeah, okay," he said. "Think I could maybe handle that."

**Author's Note:**

> <http://nomelon.livejournal.com/164544.html>


End file.
